


Lost Wandering Blues

by merisunshine36



Category: Carnivale
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merisunshine36/pseuds/merisunshine36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rita Sue knows exactly what it would take to make her life perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Wandering Blues

Rita Sue Menninger married Clayton Jones in a big ceremony down at First Lutheran on June 12, 1920. His knee was busted up from a stray piece of shrapnel he caught during the war, but you wouldn't know it from the way he carried her over the threshold into the brand new home her daddy had bought for them. She tightened her arms around his neck and let her head rest on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of pomade in his hair and the cologne he always wore just because Rita Sue said that she liked it.

She felt his hand tighten around her thigh for a moment as he took in the high windows and polished floors--to say that he wasn't a fan of charity was putting it lightly. "Hey now, I see you thinking about things that aren't me," she teased after he set her down on the ground again. The long train of her veil was tangled around her feet, so she yanked it off. The darn thing was a nuisance anyway.

Jonesy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then squinted at her, trying to puzzle out the right answer. "Aw, I weren't--I was just--"

Rita Sue hadn't planned on spending the night chatting. They had the rest of their lives for talking. Tonight was for fucking. She grabbed him by his starched collar and hauled him into their bathroom, which was all done up in blues and pink tile exactly the way she wanted it. She eyed the bathtub, trying to figure out whether it was big enough for two. Although if the way Jonesy was working the silk and lace of her wedding dress over her hips was any indication, he had other plans in mind.

He walked her backwards until the sudden sensation of cool porcelain met the backs of her thighs, making her shiver. She tried to pull her dress over her head and got stuck for a moment in a cloud of white, her arms bound up tight against her. Under all that fabric, the hot, close air within was thick with the scent of her own body.

"Wait a sec," Jonesy said, laughing. A moment later she felt his fingers wiggling beneath her bodice, across the softness of her stomach and over the generous swell of her breasts. He hesitated for a second before putting his mouth on her, trailing kisses over her chest until he caught one of her nipples between his teeth and worked the other in slow circles with the rough pad of his thumb. By the time they managed to get the dress over her head, there was a sticky wetness between her thighs and it was getting a little hard for her to breathe. Not that it stopped her from pulling him in close so she could press her mouth to his, chasing the taste of whiskey and tobacco that sat heavy on his tongue.

Rita Sue made quick work of the buttons on his fancy trousers and pushed them past his hips so she could get her hands on him, heavy and hot and already a little slick. "Tell me what you're thinking," she demanded.

Jonesy sighed a little and looked away. She liked it when he was shy, mostly because it was so different than the face he presented to the world the other twenty-three hours in the day. Everyone else might know what he sounded like when he was pissed, or tired, or pleased at a job well done. But the way he'd hide his face in the crook of her neck when she got a finger down behind his balls, or that dopey grin he got after he came? That was for her and nobody else.

Jonesy pressed his mouth to her ear, and his voice was a low rumble that ran straight down her spine when he said, "I was thinking about how I can smell you when you get excited," and pressed one of his big palms right up between her legs. When she opened her thighs, his fingers slipped easily inside.

 

%%%

"Rita Sue, is something wrong?" Jonesy asked, sounding a little desperate. "'Cause your eyes've been shut this whole time, and you don't usually--I mean, well, I like it when you look at me."

Rita Sue sighed as the imagined smell of perfumed soaps and the cool touch of porcelain gave way to the warped wood of the shower stall against her back. The night air whistled past the carnival tents and set the clothes strung up all around them to flapping. In the distance, she heard the bark of a stray dog, sharp and lonely.

She ran her fingers up through Jonesy's hair, feeling the fine layer of grit on his scalp. He shifted against her and she smiled at the play of muscles in his arms, all that power coiled up just beneath the surface. His skin smelled of stale sweat and the cold, metallic-tasting water they kept in the tanks, like the hot dry dust that no amount of washing could get rid of.

"Gimme a minute," she said, thinking of pink tile and dresses trimmed with lace. "I'm not ready yet."

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this when I found out that Rita Sue had grown up wealthy. No doubt her adult life wasn't what she'd imagined for herself, so I wanted to write one of her fantasies about what might have been.
> 
> And also because Rita Sue and Jonesy are SUPER HOT.


End file.
